Darkness Visible
by WarlordFil
Summary: Megatron attempts to make a deal with a powerful and enigmatic robot wearing a Decepticon emblem, only to discover that two Decepticons can still be worlds apart.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story stands by itself, but for those who are curious about the "Ritter" character, "All Friends and Kingdom Come" is Ritter's origin story.

TIME SETTING: Takes place before the crash of the Ark, when Autobots and Decepticons were still warring on Cybertron, and before the Combaticons were arrested as criminals.

DARKNESS VISIBLE

TIME SETTING: 1984 MINUS FIVE MILLION YEARS

Darkness Visible.

Milton had never imagined a spacecraft like this one when he had written his epic, Paradise Lost--but the poet's most memorable phrase was the only possible way to describe it. It was black, blacker even than the void of space. It blended into the interstellar darkness, and its passage could only be glimpsed when it blotted out the distant stars. Its charcoal skin seemed to suck in all the surrounding light and swallow it into nothingness. For a brief second, it passed in front of a brilliant moon, and if anyone had been there to view it, they might have seen the outline of a triangular aircraft bearing some resemblance to a Cybertronian seeker jet, and some resemblance to a Terran stealth fighter. Then, as if it realized its visibility, it activated its most powerful cloaking and completely vanished from sight.

Had anyone noticed its passing, they might have remarked that the dark ship was travelling towards the Decepticon-held city of Polyhex.

And had that being been an Autobot, he surely would have trembled at the triangular purple logos on its wings.

***

Polyhex had the most advanced early-warning systems on Cybertron: radars, laser nets, particle tracers, regular patrols, all laced into an impenetrable barrier. The Autobots had long ago

given up trying to penetrate the Polyhex defence net. The stealth fighter passed through the defences as if they did not even exist.

Only one of the defenders noticed anything amiss. She was not even a defence systems operator, but rather a scientist experimenting with a new scanning system. The system was designed to measure the particle flux of black holes, but it also succeeded in picking up a tachyon trace passing into Polyhex. "Odd," the scientist muttered. "That shouldn't be there..."

"What is it?" her assistant asked.

"A moving line of tachyon particles. Looks like some kind of space anomaly. Get the sensors to check it out."

A few moments, later, the assistant reported, "Sensors aren't picking up anything."

"Hmph. For a second it looked like those particles formed the outline of some sort of aircraft."

"See for yourself. There's nothing there."

Nothing there. Nothing but an unusually dense cloud of scattered particles, and, every once in a while, the faint shadow of a ship on the walls below. A wraith of a star cruiser, heading for Decepticon High Command.

***

Polyhex was entering its daily rest period when Thundercracker noticed the message on the computer screen with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. He'd been told that if he helped Shockwave get the administrative paperwork done, he could join in the next day's raiding party. The blue jet grumbled. Just when he thought he'd gotten all the work done in plenty of time, here was something else to attend to. One more piece of bureaucratic garbage to take care of before he could get on with what really mattered in life--the freedom of the open skies and the pleasures of blowing any passing Autobots into little pieces of scrap.

The message itself was short and to the point.

GREETINGS GENERAL MEGATRON. AN AUDIENCE IS REQUESTED AT 13452 IN ONE CYCLE. THE HUNTER.

"Doesn't give me a lot to go on," Thundercracker muttered as he cross-referenced with Megatron's planned schedule for the next day. A meeting at 13452 was definitely not on it. Thundercracker was about to send an electronic message back to the sender--the standard notice of rejection--when he realized that the message contained no return address. Frowning, Thundercracker opened the other programs on the computer, but none of them were any more enlightening about the origin of the strange message.

The Hunter. Who in the Pit could that be?

Puzzled, the blue Seeker called Shockwave over to take a look. Shockwave tried the same responses with no better success. "It's like it just appeared there," Thundercracker complained.

"Megatron will not be pleased," Shockwave replied. "If this information is accurate than the unscheduled meeting will conflict with the gladatorial games tomorrow."

"Great," the blue jet muttered. ~Just what I need to put Megatron in a bad mood.~ "Let's get Soundwave to look at it. If anybody can figure out where this came from or who sent it, he can."

***

"Megatron?" The toneless voice of Soundwave came through Megatron's partially open door.

Megatron stood up from the computerized map display he'd been studying and shot an irritated glance over his shoulder. "What is it?"

Soundwave entered, carrying a transcripted copy of the mysterious letter. We received this message on our computer screen."

Megatron took it and examined it briefly, then tossed it away. "So tell him I'm busy!"

"Message has no known point of origin."

The Decepticon leader blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"The most logical presumption is that the message was typed directly onto our computer screen."

"You're saying that whoever left this message was inside our base?"

"I have taken that into consideration. Systems check reports no breach of security."

"Well, obviously this thing didn't just appear out of nowhere!"

"Message origin remains unknown."

Megatron grumbled under his breath. No one commanded the supreme general of the Decepticon forces! He strode across the room, picked up the message, uncrumpled it and read it again more carefully. It left little room for argument. This Hunter quite obviously intended to arrive the next day and speak with Megatron, and he had given the Decepticons no chance to disagree. Megatron resented being manipulated in such a manner.

"If it's an audience he wants, it will be an audience he gets," the leader said with the hint of a cruel smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He would sorely miss the next day's games, but perhaps this stranger might prove equally amusing...

***

The next day, Megatron looked down on the preparations from the window of the tower. Below, the Decepticon forces were on a heightened alert, manning every weapon, watching from every post, patrolling every corridor. Two lines of soldiers stood at attention along the length of the courtyard. If this Hunter arrived at the front gates, he would be treated to an intimidating show of force. If he attempted to sneak in, well, he would have a most unpleasant surprise. Pleased with the "welcoming committee," Megatron settled into a chair and prepared to watch the drama unfold.

13452. ~Where is he? The damned upstart had best not be late...~

"Greetings General Megatron." The same line from the letter, now spoken in a deep and oddly echoing tone from within the command room itself.

Megatron jumped to his feet with a start. It was not like the Decepticon leader to be caught off guard. Complete relaxation was foolhardy in a military where promotion could be obtained by assassinating one's superior, and more so than ever lately, what with the rumblings of discontent he'd been hearing from some quarters of the ranks. Looking back over his shoulder, Megatron was startled to find the room empty.

Empty--but the silver Decepticon could sense some sort of presence. "Who's there?" he demanded sharply, his voice betraying a bit of irritation that masked his discomfort about being taken unaware.

"I am."

"Show yourself!"

The voice was slow and deliberate. "Phase shift."

It was as if the shadows thickened and solidified, congealing into the shape of a tall, dark Decepticon. His paint was mostly black and darkest grey, slightly shiny, seeming to absorb the surrounding light and allow only a trace to escape and form a gleaming trickle of brightness on his metal skin. The Decepticon logo was prominently displayed on a flat, triangular cockpit that covered his chest in a V. From the point of the V protruded a small bronze-coloured tapering

cylinder. Great black wings rose behind him, and smaller airfoils--the tail section of his aircraft mode--protruded from behind his waist. His lower arms and lower legs were encased in silver trim, stylized to resemble the clothing armour commonly worn by some alien species for protection. A rounded helmet with a protruding lip at the base and a single spike at the crown decorated his head. He regarded Megatron from glowing eyes that shone an eerie shade of pale violet, strikingly different from the standard Decepticon red.

"How dare you invade my base uninvited," Megatron growled, trying not to let the stranger realize that he was impressed. How did this warrior make it past Polyhex's security?

"I do not have time to be wasted dealing with your subordinates. I come to offer you a treaty and I want my answer from the source."

No groveling. No begging. No trace of fear. Civil but firm, alert but secure in himself, the black Decepticon addressed Megatron as an equal rather than a leader.

Intrigued, Megatron tilted his head. "Well then. What is this treaty of yours?"

He eyed the newcomer closely. Aside from a long glittering blade at his left hip, the stranger did not appear to carry any armament whatsoever.

The dark Decepticon paced across the room to gaze out the window. "There is an enemy," he began, "a threat to all of Cybertron. They call themselves the Quintessons and they would like nothing better than to decimate our numbers and enslave the survivors. I hunt them. I have hunted them for..." (significant pause, Megatron noted) "...a very long, long time. But there is only so much one soldier can do against an entire species." His head swung back to Megatron. "For

millennia the Quintessons have been scattered and weak, though hardly easy prey. Now, however, they have began to regroup at last, and even I am no match for their united might. I require assistance in my war."

"And you seek my aid?" Megatron asked.

The dark Decepticon nodded slowly. "The symbol that you wear designates you as Cybertronian military hardware. You and your kind...our kind, might I add...are surely more capable of such an assault than the consumer goods..."

"The Autobots," Megatron snarled.

The Hunter seemed taken aback by Megatron's vehemence, but he nodded. "Yes. The

Autobots."

At that moment, the door opened and Rumble came running in. "Boss! BOSS! We..." The little Decepticon's voice broke off when he saw the black soldier, with his great wings and eerie optics, looming in the shadows beside Megatron. "Whoa!"

The dark jet turned to Megatron with a questioning and somewhat disapproving look.

"Leave us, Rumble," Megatron ordered.

"Boss, this is really important. Soundwave just picked up a conversation between Air Commander Solarius on our moon base and Battle Unit Three in Tarn. Solarius is planning to make a move!"

Megatron snorted. "You mean Solarius actually intends to challenge me as leader of the Decepticons?" Inside, his mind raced--he had suspected Solarius for some time now, but this information had come much sooner than he'd expected.

"Sure looks that way. General Sunsabre of Tarn has thrown her support behind Solarius."

~Magnificent. First our stealth friend shows up unannounced, and now I've got a full-scale mutiny on my hands,~ Megatron thought. ~This is not my day, not in...~ He glanced towards the dark jet and then his optics narrowed as he wondered whether the stranger was an ally of Solarius.

"You have rebellions often?" the black warrior asked.

"That depends on the intelligence of my subordinates," Megatron retorted tersely, "and whether or not they have a death wish!"

"Infighting," the newcomer hissed, and while an expression of anger flickered on his face, Megatron sensed no outright hostility. The stranger's anger was an internal rage, detached from the situation at hand. Megatron realized, too, that if the stealth fighter had been sent by Solarius as an assassin, he would not have shown himself so openly. Surely someone with such powerful cloaking abilities, had he come to kill, would have done so immediately and been gone.

"Rumble, fetch Soundwave," Megatron ordered, and the small blue robot ran from the room. The silver leader turned back to his unexpected guest. "I am afraid I will have to excuse myself to deal with this unpleasant business. You are welcome in my base, but I must request that since our security is threatened, that you refrain from using your cloaking gear while you are here."

"Understood," the dark soldier agreed.

"Soundwave will show you to our quarters, my dear...what exactly is your name?"

"I have no name." He noticed the look of displeasure on Megatron's features and thought hard. "The Quintessons originally referred to me by a word which translates as The Hunter. Now, though, they have a different name for me." The next word he spoke was a series of syllables, clicks and grunts which degenerated into a sort of slurp.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Megatron demanded.

"It is the old Quintesson language. There is no direct equivalent in your language. Perhaps the closest thing would be a phrase: "Mighty Death That Strikes Without Warning From The Infinite Void Of Space."

Megatron half-chuckled, raising a scornful eyebrow at the stranger and letting a trace of amusement enter his voice. "Your name is "Mighty Death?""

"I told you, I have no name. But yes, the travellers of the spaceways tell legends of the Mighty Death." There was a pause, in which Megatron tried to decide what to make of the dark soldier who was casting his eyes around the room. "If you have not noticed, I am not one to make treaties often and perhaps for this occasion, I should choose a more congenial name. Very well. In your language, the closest approximation of my Quintesson name would sound something like..." He thought, formulating, and spoke the word. "Ritter."

"So be it, my dear Ritter. I shall see you when this business is concluded."

***

The emergency meeting was not finished until late in the night. Megatron had declared, quite forcefully, that this time Solarius had gone too far. He had asked Soundwave to contact some Decepticons he knew to be loyal in Solarius' moon base headquarters, only to find that the Air Commander had purged his troops and destroyed all those who would not support his rebellion. Faced with the prospect of invading the largest of Cybertron's moons, Megatron found himself in an unenviable position. Leading an assault on the moon base would withdraw troops from the front near Polyhex, leaving it vulnerable to attack from both Autobots and General Sunsabre's forces from Tarn. A battle between Megatron and Solarius would greatly weaken the Decepticons and give the Autobots a decided advantage. Unfortunately, allowing Solarius the opportunity to fortify

the moon base and plot against Megatron from there was too great a risk. The traitor had to be eliminated, and quickly, before he coaxed even more robots to join his side.

During the meeting, the Decepticon tactical team was busily thinking up various possible actions on behalf of Megatron's Decepticons, predicting Solarius' response to each of them, and calculating the best course of action. Megatron had just declared Starscream to be in charge of the tactical team when Ravage stalked into the room on silent paws.

"Ravage brings information on Ritter," Soundwave announced. "Laserbeak is currently observing our guest." The indigo Transformer turned into a communications console; Ravage transformed into data unit mode and played images of Ritter in his private quarters. The stranger's actions were typical--he had given the room a cursory investigation and then settled himself down in rest mode. Megatron noticed, however, that the dark soldier had ignored the pile of energon on the table. Furthermore, he was not resting easily. Every cycle or so he would wake up and pace the room impatiently, his movements edgy, his optics darting as if something chewed away at him from inside. Occasionally he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing small circles with his forefingers under the sides of his helmet as if his head ached. It was obvious that the dark hunter felt claustrophobic in the room, though he had been granted very large quarters. ~And,~ Megatron realized, ~he likely also feels exposed.~ For, true to his word, Ritter had not attempted to stealth cloak.

"I say we shoot him from behind and take his technology," Starscream muttered. "Do you have any idea how powerful we could be if every Decepticon had his ability to stealthcloak in plain sight? Air Commander Solarius wouldn't stand a chance."

"Negative," Soundwave spoke up as he transformed back to robot mode.

Megatron turned on his heel. Soundwave rarely commented on anything publicly, but when he did, Megatron listened. In fact, Megatron had been considering a line of thought much like Starscream's. The Decepticon leader was greatly intrigued by Ritter's unusual power and could see the practical applications of such abilities. Megatron, however, was less impulsive than Starscream and believed that he could learn more from a functioning Ritter than from a pile of blasted parts.

"You have an opinion, Soundwave?" the Decepticon leader asked.

Soundwave was silent.

"Come on, out with it!"

A pause, then, "It is highly recommended that Ritter be treated with the utmost caution."

"You think he's a traitor? An Autobot spy, perhaps? Or one of Solarius' lackeys?"

"Not a spy. He is a Decepticon...and a highly dangerous one. He is not to be trifled with."

"I am Decepticon COMMANDER! I fear NO ONE!"

Another pause, and then Soundwave said quietly, "Perhaps you should."

"Yes," Starscream added mockingly, gesturing towards the images of Solarius on the computers, "perhaps you should..."

"If I do," Megatron retorted, "it will be someone more formidable than Air Commander Solarius. Now get out with the tactical team and come up with some battle plans! The rest of you, save Soundwave, are dismissed." As soon as the others were gone, Megatron turned to Soundwave and demanded, "You're not acting yourself, Soundwave. What is this all about?"

"I was curious about Ritter. I feared he was an agent of Solarius. I attempted a cursory neural scan..."

"You tried to read his mind," Megatron summarized. The indigo Decepticon nodded. "Well, what did you find?"

"My processors cannot comprehend the data."

"Then spit it out and let's see if MINE can!"

"The body shell is of recent manufacture. The core processor and the data stored within is much older. Some of it dates back to the First Great War..."

"The First..." Megatron sucked air into his intakes. So much ancient knowledge! He was instantly intrigued and wanted to know more. Knowledge could mean power and...but that didn't explain Soundwave's fearful attitude. "So he's downloaded it from an older source. So he has access to the records of history. So what?"

"Megatron, we face a mind much older than the body which contains it. A mind created for one purpose--to hunt and to destroy."

"You're..." Megatron grinned at Soundwave. "You're afraid of him, aren't you!"

"I believe he sensed my presence."

"He's a telepath?"

"No...a..." Soundwave struggled for the words in his ordered, scientific mind. "A rogue consciousness. His mind is detached, alien...his thought patterns are not like ours. There are firewalls of alien programming, caches of data that are unlike anything I have ever seen in the known universe. His mind pulses with chaos. I cannot comprehend what he is."

Megatron frowned. "Perhaps we should make a point of finding out."

***

The Decepticon leader had little rest that night, and what he did manage to achieve was hardly relaxing. His thoughts were troubled with images of the traitor Solarius and questions about the stealth hunter, Ritter. Megatron rose early, refuelled, and ordered Ravage to send for Ritter.

The panther hissed, cringing back into the shadows, but Megatron barked a command and Ravage, tail tucked between his hind legs, obeyed. It was obvious that Ravage feared the dark hunter. Moments later, Ravage returned with Ritter at his side.

"Your little friend seems to dislike me," Ritter noted as Ravage melted into the darkness.

"Perhaps he resents your cloaking abilities," Megatron suggested. "Until your arrival, Ravage was our master of stealth."

"Hm." The newcomer showed little interest in continuing that line of discussion. "Have you given any more thought to my proposal?"

"I wish to know more. Where are these Quintessons located?" Megatron gestured to a star chart on a large screen.

The stranger walked up to the map, studied it for a moment, and then pointed out a small planet far off the regular spaceways. "This is their homeworld. Quintessa. It has a small garrison of natives, but is beyond my capacity to destroy. The Quintessons have built themselves an army of half-sentient Sharkticons which devour any hapless passersby. My preferred target is their spaceships. These ships too are guarded by Sharkticons, but have structural vulnerabilities in their nuclear fusion cores which can be exploited by a soldier who knows where to strike."

"Nuclear...nuclear fusion?" Megatron repeated, uncertain he'd heard correctly. Fusion powered his arm cannon, but that was a weapon to destroy. The Decepticons had remained unable to harness nuclear fusion in a form that would provide a stable source of power.

"Yes. As a whole the Quintessons are more technologically advanced than Cybertronians. Their weaknesses are their soft physical bodies, which are the main reason they have built such complex weaponry, and their small population. One Quintesson ship is formidable prey, but an armada is close to invulnerable."

"Such technology intrigues me," Megatron mused, "and yet I've never heard tell of such a species."

"Their ships do not frequent Quintessa. They are scattered..." He frowned. "Their usual haunts lie beyond the reaches of your star chart."

"This chart covers the entire galaxy, and beyond!"

"It's a big universe."

Megatron stared at the stranger and realized that the dark Decepticon had not been making an attempt at a joke. His face was perfectly serious.

"You are proposing that I take my Decepticons on a wild hunt after an enemy that isn't even in this galaxy, and leave our defences here vulnerable? You must be mad. I would be a fool to take my battle fleet into the far reaches of space in pursuit of your Quintessons while we are in the midst of another conflict here!"

"Conflict?" The dark fighter tilted his head. "What conflict is this?"

Once again, Megatron wondered if Ritter was mocking him, but the stranger's expression was devoid of any humour. "The Autobots!" Megatron exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the table.

Ritter's features immediately developed a pained expression. "Don't tell me that little tiff is still going on."

"Little...tiff?!" The Decepticon leader was incredulous.

"Those ridiculous civil wars. Autobot, Decepticon, what does it matter? We're all Cybertronians, and you...WE...are idiots to waste our time and resources on infighting while the real enemy is out there!" Angrily, the dark Decepticon cast his arm out towards the window, as if to indicate a presence beyond the stars.

Megatron himself felt his temper rising. Who was this interloper to appear out of nowhere and begin lecturing the leader of the Decepticons on who he should and should not be fighting? "If I were you, I would watch your words, Ritter," Megatron warned. "You bear on your chest the Decepticon brand. I am the supreme leader of all Decepticons and, by rights, you should take your orders from me!"

The dark jet's head snapped around; the lavender optics narrowed to slits. "I am Decepticon in the original sense of the word. This logo was created to designate military hardware. It is not a statement of belief in a philosophy or commitment to a cause. The design is a trademark that also stands for my reason for being. I was built for one purpose--to search and destroy--and I see no reason to hide that fact. You delude yourself if you think you have any control over me." His optics blazed with purple light. "Once in my existence I knew a master. I will never have one again."

For a moment, they faced off. Megatron stood his ground, deciding that it would be unwise to say anything else. He could tell that Ritter had absolutely no fear of either Megatron or his forces. Bluff, perhaps, but the silver leader remembered how Ritter had simply walked into Decepticon High Command, left his message, and waited for the appointed time. Odds were that all Ritter had to do was re-cloak, and then the entire Decepticon army could not find him if he did not wish to be found. Better to keep him visible and talking--then perhaps Megatron could get some more information out of him.

Similarly, across the table, the dark hunter recognized that Megatron would be a hard individual to intimidate, and really he had no desire to do so. Already coming to Polyhex had diverted him from his hunting and he did not want to be away from his task for any longer than was absolutely necessary—in fact, he did not know how much time he had left before his primary drive to hunt kicked in. Stalking a target, destroying it, finding a new target--that was what Ritter understood, and everything else was merely an irritant to be tolerated if it could not be avoided. Diplomacy was something foreign to him and, had the Quintessons not been building their forces, something in which he would have preferred to remain uninvolved... But he would not bow down to Megatron. Ritter was his own master.

"I have no quarrel with you," Ritter said at last. "If you wish no part in my mission than that is your right. I will not waste my time on argument with you."

Nor, Megatron thought, could he waste his resources in searching the galaxy for one rogue Decepticon. Especially one who would be as hard to find as Ritter. Weighing the odds, Megatron decided that the dark soldier was probably speaking the truth. With cloaking as powerful as Ritter's, if the stealth fighter had wanted to attack Megatron's Decepticons, he would have done so without any prior warning.

"I am busy at war with the Autobots," Megatron replied. "I cannot spare any troops to attack an enemy that is posing no threat to us."

"They ARE a threat!" Ritter began, but Megatron cut him off.

"Not at this moment. Even gaining the technology your Quintessons are said to possess would not make the sacrifice of robots or resources worthwhile. In agreeing to your alliance I can see no significant gains for my forces--no fuel, no territory of note--and I would risk my current position as ruler of three-quarters of Cybertron. If these Quintessons attack us, then I will certainly retaliate! In the meantime, I have other concerns."

The other's voice was cold. "If you wait that long it may be too late."

"That is a gamble I am prepared to take. I have more immediate threats to occupy my army," Megatron added, thinking of Solarius.

Ritter nodded grimly. "I cannot force you to change your mind. But be warned...when the Quintessons return to Cybertron, both Autobots and Decepticons will fall unless the Quintessons are repelled."

Megatron chose to ignore the warning, but something in the stealth hunter's words intrigued him. "Return to Cybertron?"

The hint of a cold smile played about Ritter's mouth. "And who do you think built this planet into a world of machines?" the dark one answered. "Who do you think were the legendary adversaries of your First Great War?"

The First...a conflict lost to history, until Decepticon historians debated whether it had really taken place at all.

"Your Quintessons..." Megatron's voice died away. These Quintessons were the ones who had taken generic robots, modified them for warfare, gave them weaponry and taught them the battle skills that made them Decepticons? These were the beings that had rebuilt the Cybertronians into what they were today? These were the monsters, the slave masters of the First Great War? "I cannot aid you in your war," Megatron stated finally, "nor can I put any of my troops under your command."

"That I would not want. I am not a commander, Megatron. I am a solitary hunter. I do not take orders, but neither do I give them."

Megatron believed him and felt somewhat relieved. A power conflict between himself and Ritter would be a long and vicious fight, one that Megatron was not certain that he could win. A pact would be much more useful...

Megatron offered, "I would, however, be agreeable to an alliance. I could provide you with fuel and weaponry in exchange for a promise of allegiance and a few simple services." Already he was wondering if the stealth fighter could penetrate Autobot defences as quickly as he had those of Polyhex and slay Optimus Prime...

"If you are considering an attack upon the Autobots, you can forget it. I have no desire to become involved in your civil wars. I can give you my word not to attack you or your Decepticons, but in return you must accept that I will not attack the Autobots either."

Megatron frowned. "It seems to me that you already consider yourself a neutral. I would gain nothing from such a deal."

"My interest is in weaponry, not in fuel. Although I am an accomplished thief, I prefer not to resort to such measures. It is a waste of time and in the past I have experienced difficulties with weak photon charges and poorly manufactured rockets." He snapped his left wrist open to display two small rockets in a concealed launcher, tactfully aiming them at the wall rather than at Megatron, and then, in another swift gesture, snapped the launcher closed.

"Our weapons are of high quality," Megatron assured him, casting a critical glance over the stealth fighter. Ritter was the same height as Megatron, perhaps not quite as strong but likely marginally faster. However, while Megatron's armament was prominently displayed on his right arm for all to see and tremble at, Ritter seemed to carry no weapons at all save the sword. Megatron had to remind himself that the wrist rockets proved that Ritter was more dangerous than he looked. "But if you are unwilling to fight the Autobots I cannot imagine anything you can offer that would be of use to me."

"You've dealt with your rebel air commander then?"

A loaded question. ~Clever,~ Megatron thought. ~Certainly a sly one.~ "You would be willing to sully your hands on infighting within the Decepticons?" Megatron asked back, answering a question with another that carried just as much hidden meaning as the first.

"Assassinating your mutineer would do nothing to provoke the Autobots and, I think, represents a fair service in exchange for weaponry. I have no doubt that this "Solarius" is already a marked mechanism. I would also propose that I could accomplish this mission faster and cleaner than your regular soldiers and..." An ice-cold smile split his features. "...remember, search and destroy is my specialty."

"Then we have a deal. Solarius for a full compliment of weapons. And in so doing, pledge non-interference with one another."

"Agreed," the dark soldier said.

"We have a custom," Megatron said. "The Rite of Oneness. We mix a portion of our fuel and burn it as one. Whosoever breaks the bond gives his life in forfeit."

"So be it," Ritter agreed, allowing Megatron to take the lead. The silver Decepticon found a small metal vessel and filled it with a portion of his fuel, then offered the bowl to Ritter. Ritter opened an access panel in his lower chest--unusual construction, Megatron noted--and contributed his portion. Megatron also noticed that Ritter's fluid glowed with an eerie purple light. It looked somewhat like energon, but not any form that Megatron had ever seen before.

"Have you a laser?" Megatron queried.

"Wing mounted. Useful only in aircraft mode. I find them less effective than the rockets—or this." He gestured towards the sword, which glittered strangely in the light. A blade of solid energon, Megatron marvelled. A very deadly weapon in close combat that could slice through metal even more swiftly than a diamond...but of little use at long range.

Megatron snorted. "Prepare to receive a weapon, then." With that, he transformed

into cannon mode, landing neatly in Ritter's arms.

"An interesting transformation," the black warrior noted, firing the weapon and igniting the brazier of fuel with a single neat shot. The strange purple fluid literally exploded in a blinding blaze of light, sending off a powerful wave of heat; then the flames died down and began burning Megatron's energon.

Megatron transformed and watched the flickering fire. "And with this sacrifice, so shall our bond be sealed," he quoted, all the while analyzing new information. Ritter was an excellent shot with a weapon, though he seemed to carry none. That was soon to be remedied.

***

"You name it, I got it," Swindle grinned as he led Ritter through the small armoury. This was Swindle's personal workshop, containing one or two samples of almost every weapon imaginable. Megatron had deemed it inadvisable to let the newcomer loose in the main Decepticon armoury, which was fine with Swindle--he loved a chance to show off. Besides, he thought, perhaps he could work a deal of his own with the stealth jet.

"What do you see, what do you like?"

"I need rockets. Like these." Ritter snapped open his right wrist and carefully drew a small rocket from the leftmost of two launchers.

"Oh, yeah, these we got." Swindle went over to a shelf and withdrew a box, then popped the lid to show Ritter the contents--row upon row of similar rockets. The dark Decepticon withdrew one, carefully fitting it into his loader, pulling out the others already loaded one by one to see how the new one cycled through.

"Fine fit...where can I test it?"

"I'll take you down to the range later. Say...you need anything else?"

"Like?"

"I dunno," the light combat vehicle said, rubbing his chin with an exaggerated motion and studying Ritter up and down. "You want a soldier's opinion?"

"Very well."

"You need a gun. A big gun. Maybe some of those shoulder-mounted lasers, like the Seekers have."

"Lasers are of little use against my targets."

Swindle tried to cover his shock. "Must be some tough-skinned Autobots..."

Ritter shot him a look of annoyance but could not be bothered to respond. Swindle, realizing he'd made a mistake but not certain what that mistake was, tried to recover. "Fine, fine. How's about a cannon then? Something like Megatron has. Something that says, Fear Me."

The black warrior cocked an eyebrow ridge as if to ask, you do not fear me now?

"I gotta admit you got an impressive look," Swindle said rapidly. "Jet black, all pointy edges, very menacing. Problem is, on first glance you look unarmed."

Ritter simply rested his hand upon the hilt of his energon blade.

"Sword's flashy," Swindle retorted, "but no good at a distance. That ain't gonna scare an enemy with lasers."

"If my enemies live long enough to see me they are exceptionally lucky," the dark jet replied. While Swindle was trying to decide if Ritter was bragging or serious, the stealth Decepticon was thinking. His ways were not the ways of the other Cybertronians. Perhaps the Combaticon had a point. "For the sake of argument, what would you suggest?"

Swindle, relieved--it was not often someone tripped him up in conversation--pulled a large weapon off the wall. "Try this." Ritter offered his right arm while Swindle performed a hasty attachment.

The black jet brought his arm up in a swift moment, aiming the cannon across the workshop, and frowned. "Too heavy. Too bulky." He removed the weapon. "My tactics have always been stealth and speed."

"Okay, how about this then?" Swindle produced a light rocket tube. "Big enough to scare the lugnuts off'a anyone in your way, small enough to move easily...and gives you lots of flexibility for ordinance."

The Combaticon suspected that Ritter was merely humouring him when he accepted the rocket tube and bracketed it to his arm, but as he moved his arm experimentally, a slow smile split his face. "You may have a point."

"To the range, then," Swindle replied, and led the way.

***

Direct hit.

Ritter lowered the smoking missile tube on his right arm and allowed himself a small grin of satisfaction. "I think I will take this weapon."

"An excellent choice," Swindle replied, "and that missile tube can be yours for the low, low price of only nine hundred intergalactic credits..."

The stealth hunter instantly frowned. "Megatron promised me all the ordinance I wanted in exchange for a favour rendered."

"Sure, sure, IF you'd taken it out of the main armoury. You come to ol' Swindle's workshop, you're getting the good stuff, and...pal, it costs."

"I have neither the time nor the means to dicker with you." He slid the weapon off his arm, feeling a deep inner irritation, cursing himself for ever coming out of his solitude at all. Surely Megatron would not permit...

"No credits? Well then, on rare occasions--and just for you--I'll accept energon or raw materials worth the value of the weapon."

"I'm not here to buy from you," Ritter said firmly.

Swindle snorted with annoyance. "Well, well, ain't that a shame. You been alone out in space too long, Stealthy. Lemme teach you a lesson about how we do things here. You come along fixing to make a deal, you better be ready to pay your share of the bargain, to ANYONE affected."

The dark jet turned slightly, for he could hear the sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor.

***

"There he goes again," Thundercracker laughed, watching the image on the monitor.

"What is happening?" Soundwave asked in his toneless voice, glancing over at the viewscreen.

"Swindle's bein' Swindle, as usual," the blue jet replied. "Trying to bilk ol' Stealthy out of everything he can."

"And he's got backup," Starscream pointed out. On another monitor, the four other Combaticons could be seen heading in the direction of the range. "Clever."

"Figure we should go down and pull ol' Stealthy's plating out of the fire?"

"Negative," Soundwave retorted, his features expressionless as always.

"What?" Thundercracker spluttered. "You want him to get trashed by the Combaticons?"

"I agree with Soundwave," Starscream put in. "Let's see just how tough Megatron's new friend really is."

***

The door swung open. Ritter had been hoping that it would be Megatron and his retinue. Instead, it was four robots Ritter had never seen before, but the fact that they were painted in camouflage similar to Swindle's made their identity fairly obvious.

"You called?" Vortex asked in a taunting voice.

Ritter folded his arms and glared at Swindle. "What is the meaning of this?"

Swindle shrugged. "You deal by choice, or my pals can help you. Up to you."

"So you're resorting to thuggery now." The dark jet did not seem particularly outraged, nor frightened.

"Hey, don't get so testy...I'm offering you a fair exchange. What do you say, guys?"

The other Combaticons nodded, though Brawl gave out a snicker and whispered to Onslaught, in a voice loud enough for Swindle to hear, "I think Swindle's losing his touch."

The light assault vehicle instantly scowled. It wasn't HIS fault that Ritter was so difficult! How would THEY like trying to make a deal with someone who seemed perfectly willing to walk away at any time?

Irritated, Ritter said, "Take your rockets back. We'll call it a draw and walk away."

Walk right back to Megatron, Swindle thought, and wouldn't the Combaticons be in trouble then for adding their own conditions to the alliance. No, this had to be finished here and now. Ritter would take the deal on Swindle's terms and shut up about it, lest the stealth fighter have to confess to Megatron how the Combaticons had beaten him.

"Too late," Swindle retorted. "You should learn to finish what you started." The lavender eyes narrowed menacingly as the dark jet snapped his left wrist open.

"Nowhere to run," Onslaught said, "nowhere to hide." The indoor range was large, well lit, and closed off. Even the most advanced cloaking wouldn't help an adversary who was trapped in plain sight. Just in case, the Combaticon leader slid a pair of infrared goggles over his optic sensors.

"Phase shift."

He vanished before their eyes. The Combaticons fired a volley of lasers into the

spot where he'd been standing, but there was nothing there. Brawl rushed forward, swinging both fists, and found only empty air.

"Where is he?" Blast Off demanded.

"I don't know!" Onslaught retorted. "The infrared's reading nothing!"

***

In the monitor room, a whole crowd of Decepticons had gathered around the screen showing the scene taking place in the range.

"Hey, this is better than the gladatorial games!" Rumble laughed from his seat beside the monitor. Soundwave said nothing, though he seemed uncomfortable under his red visor and face plate.

"Ten credits says the Combaticons are going down," Skywarp offered.

"You're on!" Ramjet replied.

"No way," Dirge grumbled. "There's five of them and only one of him. They've got him trapped and they're mean—and strong."

Starscream said nothing as he watched the screen intently. The Combaticons were a tightly knit elite forces unit--a force to be reckoned with. But Ritter's voice still rang in Starscream's audio sensors: "Stealth and speed are my weapons." Did it matter how strong you were, if your opponent found the perfect place to strike and hit you there when you were least expecting? Musing, the white Seeker watched the battle unfold.

***

"Get back here and fight, you coward!" Swindle shrilled, trying to hide the fear in his voice.

In the command room, Ramjet and Thrust were nodding. Perhaps Ritter could win the battle, but he certainly wouldn't earn the respect of the other Decepticons if he took the Combaticons out from hiding...

"Phase shift." The whisper was barely heard over the noise of the raging Combaticons. There he was, melting out of the shadow near the door, and his right hand was reaching for the bronze cone on his chest. Pulling the item clear, the observers could see that it was in fact a small weapon, the size of a handgun.

"There he is! Get him!" Onslaught barked. "Like we planned it...surround and restrain!" The missile truck let loose a blast from his sonic stun-gun, but

Ritter dodged, firing a gleaming beam from the bronze weapon...

...and suddenly Onslaught found himself holding empty air. Ritter's beam had struck Onslaught's weapon and actually disintigrated it. There was no explosion, no heat or light...one minute the leader's sonic gun was there in his hand, and the next it was pulsing with oscillations that grew more and more pronounced until the gun had torn itself apart on an atomic level, leaving not even fragments behind.

"What the...?" the leader was asking, shocked, but Blast Off and Vortex ignored

him as they rushed in at Ritter, guns blazing.

***

Megatron's voice rose over the excited babble of the Decepticons. "What are you all doing standing around here?"

"The Combaticons jumped Ritter!" Frenzy exclaimed.

"Those idiots! How dare they? He is our best chance of taking out Solarius. Someone get down there and break it up!"

"Maybe we don't need to," Starscream said, pointing at the monitor. "It seems to me Old Stealthy is holding his own."

"Hmm." The crowd parted, allowing Megatron the position in front of the monitor, and the Decepticon leader observed the fight that was occurring several levels below.

***

A rain of blasts descended from Blast Off and Vortex's weapons. Ritter ducked, shielding himself with his wings, letting the shots bounced right off the wing metal. The wings, obviously made of some reinforced material, weren't even marked. Puzzled at the dark jet's resilience, the two Combaticons paused. That was enough time for Ritter to raise his wing and use his bronze beam to disintegrate Blast Off and Vortex's guns. The space shuttle and the helicopter had no desire to have any parts of their bodies disintegrated and immediately backed off.

Brawl, however, was as usual too angry to think. As Blast Off and Vortex retreated, Brawl rushed the stealth fighter. His weapon, too, vanished in a beam of bronze light, but he didn't care...

***

"Are you getting readings on this?" Megatron demanded to Shockwave and Soundwave.

"I am still searching for a logical explanation," Shockwave replied, confused. "His cloaking technology is far in advance of ours. Simple light deflection would not be sufficient."

"Anyone's guess what those wings are made of," Starscream mused. "They seem to deflect most weapon blasts just as his stealth cloaking deflects light and radar."

"Location of heavy atoms detected in the room," Soundwave said. "I suspect that they are the remnants of the Combaticons' weaponry. Sensors detect a possible maser beam...magnetic oscillations..."

"Atomized," Megatron breathed. He gave the screen a hard glance. Hopefully those stupid Combaticons hadn't soured Ritter on the entire Decepticon Army...

~There's only one of him...~ Megatron thought.

Another voice in the leader's head chimed in. ~Do YOU want to fight him?~

Megatron avoided the question with another thought. ~Not when I can give Solarius the honour.~

It was time to end this fight.

***

Brawl hit Ritter head-on and smashed him into a wall. The black stealth-fighter replied with a strong punch to Brawl's head. The berserker tank robot hardly noticed, completely wrapped up in his own internal battle rage. Ritter phased out. Brawl kept slashing away, for a few moments seeming as if he were connecting with something, until he lost track of the invisible warrior's location. Seconds later, Ritter phased in behind Brawl. The Decepticons in the command room could see a gash in his left arm and the sparks of spitting wiring. Just because the dark Decepticon was phased out didn't mean he couldn't be hit...

...but the hitting was a lot harder when Brawl couldn't see what he was aiming at. There were a few moments of punch and counter-punch, with Brawl striking out, Ritter vanishing, phasing in somewhere else to land a blow and vanish before Brawl could retaliate. The battle ended when Ritter phased in airborne above Brawl and shut off his engines, landing with the full force of gravity on Brawl's head and driving him to the ground.

As Brawl fell into unconsciousness, Ritter raised his head and glared challengingly at the other Combaticons. Blast Off, Vortex and Onslaught backed away slowly.

"Get out," Ritter hissed. "This is between me and him." The dark soldier gestured towards Swindle, who was cowering back, holding his guns on Ritter, knowing very well they wouldn't do him any good...

Onslaught nodded and left the room with Vortex and Blast Off right behind him.

"HEY!" Swindle cried. "Hey, guys! You can't run out on me!"

"You picked the fight," Blast Off retorted. "You finish it."

"You never told us we'd have to fight the likes of him," Vortex added, and slammed the door behind him.

Swindle gulped, trying to clear what felt like a lump of dirty oil in his throat, getting ready for the fight of his life.

And then the dark soldier's gun swung towards the monitor camera in the corner of the room. With one burst, the maser beam atomized the camera's metal components and sent the remnants crashing to the ground, where they fell apart.

***

"Hey, what gives?" Thundercracker grumbled.

"Show's over," Thrust muttered.

"Now we'll NEVER know how the fight ends!" Skywarp complained.

Starscream wished desperately that he could see what was going on in the range, because if he'd learned anything from the stealth fighter's tactics, now was the part he'd most want to see...

***

Swindle faced Ritter, trembling even as he did so...

...and suddenly, the violet light in the stealth fighter's eyes died. The black form swayed once or twice and collapsed to the ground.

"What the...?" Swindle choked, unable to believe his sudden good fortune. He took a few tentative steps closer, wondering if this was a trick, but the closer he got the more it looked like Ritter was offline.

YOU HAVE MADE THE WORST MISTAKE OF YOUR LIFE.

Ritter's voice...but the black body wasn't speaking it. This time, the voice was right inside Swindle's head.

"Where are you?" Swindle cried, but the answer he received was a splitting agony of pain inside his core processor.

WE HAVE NO DEAL. YOU WILL GIVE ME WHAT I AM ENTITLED TO.

"Stop it!" Swindle cried, letting off blasts at empty air, knowing he was helpless to drive the force from his mind. His limbs moved and Swindle knew it wasn't his consciousness responsible.

SMALL SHELL. GROUNDBOUND. UGH.

"Get out," the Combaticon whimpered. "Get out of my head."

CUNNING LITTLE MIND, THOUGH. A burst of vehemence. DON'T YOU EVER TRY TO USE IT AGAINST ME AGAIN.

"I won't! Just get out..."

SAY PLEASE.

"Please!"

AND OUR DEAL IS OFF.

"Take the laucher! Take the rockets! Anything! Just get out of my head!"

AND YOU WILL KEEP QUIET ABOUT THIS.

"I will! I swear it! Just...PLEASE!"

The pressure vanished. Violet light flared in the stealth fighter's eyes and he got up, rising to one knee, the look on his face triumphant even though Swindle stood overtop of him.

"I'm glad we could come to this agreement," Ritter said.

***

That was when Megatron kicked the door open. "What is the meaning of this?" the Decepticon leader demanded.

Swindle was still too shaken to speak, and so it was Ritter who answered as he rose to his feet. "Your munitions bot took it upon himself to attempt to make a bargain of his own."

Megatron glared at Swindle. The Combaticon protested weakly, "He's the one who started cloaking..."

"Your soldiers are all still alive, out of my respect for you." Ritter's optics were dark, the shadows playing over his narrow jaw. "However, I would advise that they had best not cross me again."

There was a pounding of feet in the corridor. "What happened here?" Starscream demanded.

"Swindle got what he deserved," Megatron laughed.

Starscream looked suspiciously at Ritter. There was not a scratch on Swindle and yet the small Combaticon looked thoroughly beaten. He was dying to know what Ritter was hiding...

***

Soundwave outright refused to attempt repairs on the stealth fighter. Megatron ordered Hook and the other Constructicons to fix Ritter's battle damage, but the dark jet declined, accepting only the use of the repair bay and vowing to take care of it himself.

"You figure he has any pain sensors at all?" Thrust asked. "Repairing yourself, OUCH!"

"I figure he's got something to hide," Starscream muttered. "I wonder what kind of internal systems he's got?"

Onslaught looked up. "You want to antagonize him, be my guest, but leave ME out of it."

Megatron's own opinion was divided. He admired the way the stealth fighter had put down the Combaticons, and without causing an excess of damage to his troops. On the other hand, how in the Pit had Ritter done it? He'd had Soundwave talking to Swindle, but the light jeep remained incoherant about what had taken place when the monitor had been blown out, and Megatron had finally told Soundwave to give up. Swindle's obvious trauma was not doing anything to calm Soundwave down. That, too, was highly unusual...it was not like Soundwave to be afraid of anyone.

A rogue consciousness, Soundwave had said.

What could that mean?

Deep in thought, Megatron made his way down to the repair bay and knocked on the door.

"Come in," came the voice of Ritter. Megatron opened the door to see the dark jet closing the last of his access panels.

"I trust you are fully repaired?"

"Good as new."

"Then you are a medic?"

"Self-taught," he replied with a small grin, refusing to explain the joke. "Now, I believe I have a certain target to take care of." He ran his left hand over the missile tube now bracketed to his right arm. "One Solarius. I will need a description of the individual in question and a detailed map of his base, if possible."

"Might I suggest something better?"

"Which is?"

"I would like to send one of my robots along with you as an observer."

The dark soldier frowned. "I prefer to work alone."

"We are all allies here," Megatron said, "and many of my troops know the moon base well."

"I can't cloak a large individual," Ritter said somewhat reluctantly. "My stealth shielding will not extend even as far as another aircraft on my wing. I need someone small enough to ride within my cockpit."

"That can be arranged," Megatron replied, noting the limitation and already thinking of potential candidates.

The stealth warrior nodded his acquiesence, though he seemed somewhat disturbed.

***

"Starscream!" Megatron called.

"Yes?"

"I want you to take Ritter to the map room and show him the specifications of the moon base."

The white Seeker smiled, feeling flattered at the honour. Obviously Megatron had decided that he was the Decepticon most capable of delivering the briefing to the stealth assassin. "Certainly, mighty Megatron," he replied proudly, a smile on his face as he walked out.

Starscream would not have been half so pleased if he had known that he was merely a decoy--someone to keep Ritter's attention while Megatron made his choice.

"You are entrusting the elimination of Solarius to Ritter?" Soundwave asked, somewhat skeptically, Megatron thought.

"He is not going alone," Megatron replied. "One of us is going with him." Thoughtfully, the leader cast his optics around the room. "Someone who can transform small enough to fit in his cockpit." His glance passed over Soundwave's cassettes.

"No way!" Rumble protested. "I ain't going on no trip with Old Creepy!"

"You'll do as you're told!" Thundercracker snapped.

"Easy for YOU to say. You know you won't fit in his cockpit!"

Ravage, hissing, backed into a corner and crouched there, snapping at Skywarp when the black and purple Seeker tried to reach in after him.

"Soundwave, get your cassettes to behave!" Skywarp called. "Or better yet, YOU go!"

Soundwave was silent, refusing to display the nervousness Megatron knew he felt to the other Decepticons.

"Never mind," Megatron stated firmly. "I will go."

"What?" the others asked in unison.

Megatron took a quick glance at the monitors, ensuring that Ritter was still in the presence of Starscream and not lurking cloaked in the room somewhere before he spoke. "If we are to find out the true capabilities of our mysterious new ally, one of us must accompany him. He seems a proud and arrogant mechanism. I will go myself, the better to judge him in action. Perhaps I can learn his secrets. And if he has any hostile intent, then he will face the wrath of Megatron first hand!"

"Are you certain that is wise?" Soundwave asked. "You take a dangerous risk."

"Anyone afraid to take necessary risks is not worthy of being Decepticon leader!" Megatron retorted. Around the room, heads nodded. Megatron felt satisfied. If anyone were to learn the stranger's secrets, it would be him...not one of his underlings who could use those secrets against him.

"They're coming back," Frenzy said, pointing to the monitor which pictured Ritter and Starscream walking down the hall. Seconds later, the dark jet appeared in the doorway.

"Who is my companion?" Ritter asked without preamble.

"I am," Megatron replied, striding forward.

A curt nod. "Let's go, then."

Megatron felt a slight wave of irritation. "You would do well to remember who is commander here."

Ritter seemed on the verge of saying something, but then his optics flickered over the other Decepticons in the room and he held his silence.

"Shockwave, hold the base until I return." The purple ray-gun Decepticon nodded. Megatron transformed into his weapon form and landed neatly in Ritter's arms.

Ritter walked outside, followed by a curious Starscream, until he found a strip of pavement long enough to serve as a runway. He transformed into a black stealth aircraft, all strange angles and sharp edges. Megatron found himself sitting on what would be the equivalent of a dashboard or control console with a clear view out the stealth ship's cockpit. Ritter fired his twin engines and took off into the black Cybertronian sky. Far below, Starscream craned his neck to watch until the shadowy aircraft was completely swallowed up by the darkness.

***

"Are we stealth cloaked?" Megatron asked.

"Conventionally. Light refraction, radar repellent, the usual..."

"What about your heavy cloaking?"

A low chuckle. "And how happy would your subordinates have been to see their leader vanish before their eyes?"

Megatron would have nodded had he been in robot mode. Ritter had a point. The silver cannon relayed a series of coordinates and the stealth fighter turned to follow them, setting a course for the largest of Cybertron's moons.

As they flew, Megatron became more and more impatient. The dark fighter seemed quite happy to fly along, visible to everyone, rather than using his special abilities. This trip might be nothing more than a monumental waste of time. He satisfied himself with hoping that he'd at least get Solarius' head out of the deal.

They were halfway to their destination before Ritter spoke again. "I've got a ship sighted, off the port bow."

Even in gun mode, Megatron's optical sensors were capable of permitting him the advantage of sight. In fact, his gunsight gave him better distance vision than his robot mode. From his current position atop the control console of the black stealth jet, Megatron used his gunsight to peer forward into space. "Line me up with the ship," he commanded. Ritter hesitated only a moment before he dipped his wing and complied so that Megatron could see the other vessel. "An

Autobot cruiser!" the Decepticon leader breathed.

There was a grumble from the stealth fighter.

"It's very lightly armoured," Megatron mused, "and probably just as lightly defended." Perhaps he could force Ritter to use his heavy cloaking and his powerful disintegration ray...or rather, perhaps the Autobots would force the stealth fighter's hand for him.

"Whether it is armed or not is unimportant. I have no intention of attacking it."

"You fear a mere transport cruiser?" the silver gun taunted.

"I could destroy that ship in a nanoclick...but I will not do so. We have covered this subject. I have no interest in your civil war."

"You may have no choice," Megatron said, sounding pleased, as he noticed the cruiser's nose swinging their way. "I believe the Autobots may have detected us. Even now they come to seek a quarrel with us."

"Then we shall avoid it." Ritter was firm.

"How? This is empty space! There is nowhere to retreat." Megatron did not sound the least bit sorry at the prospect of the coming fight.

The stealth fighter turned a little. Megatron lost sight of the Autobot cruiser; then the second of Cybertron's moons came into his distant view. "Do you see that planet?" Ritter asked.

"Yes. It is quite far away. Surely you don't intend on trying to hide there?"

"Keep your optics focused firmly on that moon. You will feel disoriented and somewhat uncomfortable." Megatron barely had time to question what the dark fighter was planning before Ritter spoke an activation code in a low voice.

"Phase shift."

With those words, the universe melted around them. The light of the distant stars vanished, as did the depths of space. Everything seemed to have become a flat grey void without substance or direction, and were it not for the solid reality of Ritter' cockpit around him, Megatron would have felt himself fallen into some sort of formless limbo. Even now, it seemed as if the stealth fighter was falling through nothingness...a black hole, perhaps...and Megatron realized that for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt almost helpless. There was nothing to strike back at, nothing to fight...only that swallowing void.

"What is..."

"Focus on the moon." Ritter's voice reminded Megatron of the instructors at the Polyhex War Academy, coaching their students.

Stunned by the bizarre experience, Megatron did as he was told, focusing out the forward window of the aircraft in the direction where he'd last seen the second moon. Sure enough, the moon's blurry outline swam into view, solidifying, but not quite coming clear. Slowly, the other stars returned to his vision. They too were hazy, as if glimpsed through warped glass.

Now that the universe had taken on some semblence of order, Megatron's momentary discomfort was replaced by amazement and curiosity. His whole body felt electrified, flowing through reality as current flowed through a cable. "What is this place?"

"Welcome Megatron, to the Other Side." There was a low rumble from the aircraft,

perhaps a chuckle, as it banked back towards the Autobot ship.

Closer...closer...the cruiser's hull grew large in Megatron's vision, until he could see right through the viewports and glimpse the Autobots inside! They were talking to one another, gesturing out into space...

"They can't see us!" Megatron marvelled.

"We are invisible to them."

Megatron chuckled, the laugh of a predator. "Then we shall destroy them!"

"Not from inside my cockpit, you won't."

"Then YOU fire!"

"I have no quarrel with Autobots." The stealth fighter swept over the oblivious Autobot vessel and continued on its way to the first Cybertronian moon. Inside, Megatron seethed with resentment, and as if the dark soldier had read his mind, Ritter spoke. "Right now our goal is to destroy Solarius, is it not? And surely exploding an Autobot ship so close to the first moon would draw Solarius' attention?"

"With your cloaking, why should you care about drawing attention?" Megatron grumbled, but the silver cannon reluctantly admitted to himself that once again, Ritter had a valid argument. Trying to forget the Autobot shuttle, Megatron peered out through his scope. The first moon had appeared in his sights and was steadily growing larger and larger. "Why is everything so hazy?"

"We hang between the worlds," came the enigmatic reply, and suddenly Megatron noticed a comet screaming down directly in front of them.

"Look out, we're going to hit, you..." He was about to call the dark soldier a fool, and later, was glad he had not.

Megatron was not sure what Ritter did...he could feel his mass shifting in that odd tingling current...but as he looked up, he saw them passing both around and through the derelict rock. There was a slight pain inside his frame, and a residual ache after they were past the comet, but hardly the crash he'd expected.

What was this? Cloaking was about hiding, about concealment, not about passing through solid objects, as if that comet had been nothing more than air......no. As if Ritter and Megatron had been nothing more than air.

"What happened?"

"That comet is in your regular dimension. I have tuned both our optics to your dimension of origin, so that we can see and navigate in that world. Currently, only forty percent of our body mass remains in that dimension."

"You mean..."

"The Other Side is a mostly empty dimension on a parallel with yours. All our body particles have become tachyons, faster than light, that are on a constant state of flux between your world and this one. We are currently operating on a sixty-forty split. To avoid the comet I simply shifted the forty percent in question to a part of our bodies that would not come in contact with the comet, and therefore we experienced minimal impact. Our internal repair systems should be able to take care of any minor damage...

Inter-dimensional transport...no wonder the Polyhex defenses hadn't picked him up! Even the most sensitive scanner would have picked up nothing more than a high concentration of tachyon particles, which was a common space anomaly. If the whole Decepticon armada could...

"Can you go deeper?" Megatron asked. "All the way across?"

A soft chuckle. "Presumably."

"You've never tried?"

"Would YOU like to be trapped forever on the Other Side?"

Megatron looked out the window and concentrated on seeing not the first moon, but rather the flat greyness of the dimension called the Other Side. His vision adjusted and he saw the same endless void as he had when they'd first shifted. Nothingness, a universe of eternal nothingness, falling away into the heart of forever. An eternity with no other creature to converse with, no solid earth to stand on, no orientation whatsoever. Nothing but the everlasting abyss, and you.

To be lost forever, the only being in an infinity of absence. At the thought, Megatron could feel the wild pulses of madness gnawing at his mind. Shuddering despite himself, he re-focused on the world from which he'd come.

"It's a gamble I don't care to make," Ritter said softly.

For a moment, Megatron wondered what made Ritter phase over here to begin with. ~The stealth capabilities!~ his more logical side raged. ~Think of the power! Think of what the Decepticon Armada could do with that knowledge!~ What Megatron thought of, however, was losing half his army when they did not know how to control the new power. Of spinning through that grey void forever. Something in his mind twisted uncomfortably at the eternal silence of the Other Side. Seeking to distract himself, he thought back to what Ritter had told him and seized upon another question. "Tachyons?" he asked. "We're tachyon particles?"

"That is correct."

"How do you get the energy to accelerate your entire mass beyond light speed?"

"That is one of my mysteries." Megatron tried to detect mockery in the jet's words, and then Ritter continued, "Be advised that I do not understand the fine mechanics of most of my own abilities. I have them. I use them. That is all I know. I could not tell you exactly how my phase shifters worked even if I wanted to. The same goes for my weapon—the Magnetic Amplification Output cannon."

"So you didn't invent this splendid equipment."

"I am a hunter, not an inventor."

"Who did?"

"Hmm?"

"Who built all this? Who gave you these powers?"

The dark jet chuckled. "You will not be able to deal with them, whether by trade or by force. They are all dead."

"Dead?!"

"Dead, for countless eons, and their workshop destroyed. All their blueprints and plans swallowed up in flames."

"A miserable waste. Who was responsible?"

"I was."

Momentary silence.

"Take a lesson from the Quintessons, my friend...never build a weapon you cannot control."

***

There was silence in the cockpit until they penetrated the atmosphere of the second moon. Megatron was deep in thought, wondering where Ritter drew his energy from, frustrated that he was unlikely to find out, and yet for the most part satisfied that he'd secured the allegiance of the stealth fighter. He had no clue what Ritter was thinking. It seemed to him that the dark hunter's mind as well as his body flickered in and out of the Other Side. ~A most unappealing idea. No wonder Soundwave was uncomfortable.~ For all the indigo communications expert could read minds, those minds had always before been the minds of this reality, not those of an ancient entity warped by countless millennia spent sandwiched between dimensions.

Finally, Ritter levelled out into a cruising pattern. Megatron marvelled as once again, the dark jet passed unnoticed through the hostile skies. There were troops of robots moving below, and once another space cruiser passed within a few meters of them without ever seeing them. Looking down, Megatron saw the stealth jet's faint shadow silhouetted against the ground. There was another slight tingling, and as he watched, the shadow disappeared from sight.

"You adjusted for the light," Megatron stated.

The dark warrior made a sound that was an affirmative of sorts. "Just as our optics are tuned to your dimension, and the sound of my engines is completely swallowed up in the Other Side, so can lighting be adjusted for, though it is more difficult. Forty percent of our mass does remain on that plane." The aircraft banked, studying the layout of the ground below. "Guide me. You know the area." The silver gun gave him directions to Solarius' headquarters, which Ritter acknowledged. With any luck, they would catch the rogue Air Commander in his base rather than having to chase all over the moon for him. Megatron could hardly believe it as Ritter soared right overtop the headquarters buildings and transformed neatly on a balcony, carrying the silver cannon in his arms. Other robots were moving close enough to touch and were still oblivious of their presence.

"Be careful," Ritter said tersely. "They can feel an impact with the forty percent of our bodies that remains in their dimension, even if they can't see or hear us."

Megatron murmured assent and gave the dark soldier directions to the control room. In the hall, they had to dodge aside to allow two scientists with a cart to pass, and once they had a close call with a guard who swore she'd felt something pass by her, but on the whole, the trip to the command room was uneventful. They waited for a gunner to enter and followed him through the doors.

~Magnificent. Unbelieveable,~ Megatron thought. Here they were, standing in the corner of Solarius' control room, and there was the usurper himself.

"That's him?" Ritter asked, gesturing to the golden-plated jet Decepticon who lounged in a sort of throne, giving orders to his troops and keeping a wary optic on a monitor displaying the Polyhex command building.

"Yes," Megatron laughed, "and it seems he's looking for me." He could see Solarius straightening as the monitor showed a figure leaving Polyhex High Command, and then collapsing back in his throne when he identified the figure as Starscream. "When do you plan to strike?"

Ritter could feel the silver gun trembling with anticipation in his hands. "When would you like to?"

Once again, Megatron felt a flicker of annoyance. Was the dark jet having some sort of joke with him, or could Ritter really lurk about in stealth mode as long as he wanted to? "How long will it be before you need refuelling?"

"Quite a long time."

It made little sense to Megatron--surely that phase jump would require a massive amount of power, plus there was the space flight to consider--but evidently Ritter was not worried. Megatron pressed, "Do you have any preferences, then?"

"When he's alone, I think. There's no need to get in a drawn-out battle with his robots."

"You would shoot an unarmed opponent in the back?"

"It's more efficient."

Megatron certainly would shoot an unarmed opponent in the back if he had to--survival was, of course, his paramount concern--but ordinarily he preferred to face down his opponents one-on-one. It won more respect from the troops. Megatron noted one more useful piece of information about Ritter: evidently the stealth jet couldn't care less what others thought of him. A solitary hunter indeed. While Megatron relished the idea of tearing the renegade Solarius apart limb by limb, Ritter seemed only to want to kill him and be done with it.

Ritter was evidently pursuing a similar line of thought. "Do you wish to say anything to the rogue before he is destroyed?"

"I think I should make an example of him, yes."

The black warrior's optics flickered over Solarius and two other robots who were constantly in the golden warlord's presence, evidently bodyguards. "Then I shall cripple him with the first blow and take out the two guards. Solarius himself can be yours. That does not violate our deal, does it?"

"Not in the least."

"We will take them alone, then, when they leave the main room. Until then, we wait."

"Are you afraid to challenge them in a group?"

"Afraid, no, but why should I? Why risk damage unnecessarily? Have you ever repaired yourself, Megatron? It is a painful ordeal to remove and replace one's own fuel pumps and I would prefer to avoid repeating the experience..."

Repair himself, no. Megatron had always had technicians who performed such labour. It was logical that a lone individual without any support team behind him would have to be more careful to avoid injury and...

~...one's own fuel pumps?~

Such a maneuver should be impossible, even by a skilled medic. If the pain didn't overwhelm the robot in question, surely the lack of fuel would weaken him beyond the ability to complete the transplant...

An enigma, indeed.

"Very well."

***

They waited. Every once in a while, the silver gun would shake with impatience in Ritter's arms, particularily when Solarius began to make grandiose speeches about how he would take Megatron down. Ritter remained unperturbed, seemingly willing to wait forever if he had to, possessed with an infinite patience that seemed not quite of this reality. The dark fighter was disinclined to talk. Megatron could imagine his mind weaving its solitary way in and out of the Other Side. Whatever those Quintessons were, the Decepticon leader was sure that they were the only thing keeping Ritter grounded in this dimension.

The moment was upon them almost before Megatron realized it.

"I am going for fuel," Solarius announced. "Keep watch on Polyhex and inform me at once if Megatron is sighted."

His troops nodded their agreement. The rogue Air Commander stood up and swept out of the room, trailed by two guards...and two invisible wraiths.

In the corridor, Ritter fired his engines and flew into the air, overtop of Solarius and his retinue, twisting as he landed neatly to face the oncoming robots. "Shall we?"

"Let's," Megatron replied, the hungry smile evident in his voice.

"You'll be disoriented again for a moment. Stay focused on your target."

Megatron did not have time to agree.

"Phase shift."

The surroundings jumped, became suddenly and powerfully sharper, seeming to leap out at Megatron and press upon his optic sensors. His body felt strangely heavy. Ritter had already pulled the cannon's trigger, delivering a solid blast to Solarius' chest. The golden jet was stumbling backwards, and his two guards were gripping their weapons uselessly as they stared forward with expressions of comical surprise.

Ritter released his grip on the cannon. Megatron jumped forward and transformed. The guards began to raise their weapons, but Ritter was ready for them. He snapped his wrists open and delivered a volley of two missiles from each wrist, taking the guards down before they had a chance to get off any shots. Solarius struggled up on his left elbow, his right hand pressed to the wound in his chest...and then Megatron was standing over him, aiming his fusion cannon at his former Air Commander's head.

"M...Megatron!" Solarius gaped.

"Yes. Megatron. Why don't you rip out my optics now, mighty Solarius, if that's your plan for me?"

The golden jet stared up into the darkness of the cannon. "No...you can't...how did you..."

"I am Decepticon leader," Megatron said firmly. "I strike wherever I please."

Solarius struggled, but could not break free. Realizing his time was up, he refused to beg. Instead, he turned his head away from the fusion cannon and shut his eyes.

Megatron fired.

There was the sound of running feet behind them. Ritter spun around and fired a missile from his new arm-mounted launcher, taking out the arriving troops. He smiled with satisfaction, running his gaze over the new weapon, and returned his attention to Megatron.

"Fine shooting," Megatron said, stepping away from the ruined body of Solarius.

He paused a moment, looking back at the fallen Air Commander. "A miserable traitor, but he died well."

"Well. Badly. I see little difference. You wanted him dead. He is. Let's be going."

Megatron gave the dark soldier a penetrating glance. "Do you have no sense of retribution whatsoever?"

Ritter was silent. Megatron recalled how Optimus Prime often referred to the Decepticons as "unfeeling machines." A lie, more Autobot propaganda, but looking at the stealth jet Megatron had to admit the phrase seemed apt in one case at least.

Megatron took one more moment to observe his triumph before reverting to cannon mode. Ritter took the cannon and phase-shifted once more. The silver Decepticon leader was prepared for the shift, but still felt the same circuit-wrenching vertigo until he adjusted to the experience. They proceeded down the corridors, watching the halls fill with startled robots as the news of Solarius' destruction spread.

"Can you cause them to hear us?" Megatron asked.

"Very well." A slight shifting of molecules, a sensation of grating. "Proceed."

"Attention," the Decepticon leader said, and suddenly the robots' heads turned, looking for the sound of the voice. "This is Megatron speaking. Solarius is dead. You have two megacycles to surrender your garrison to the Polyhex forces, or you will follow your leader to destruction!"

There was general scrabbling as Solarius' troops frantically complied. Ritter did not wait to observe the surrender, and Megatron was willing to let it go.

***

They travelled cloaked all the way back to Cybertron. Ritter flew them right into the command center where he transformed before phase-shifting them back into reality. To the other Decepticons, it was as if Megatron had sprung in gun mode out of nowhere, transforming as he landed. Ritter stood behind Megatron, a smirk on his face as if he appreciated having an audience to show off for.

"Solarius is defeated!" Megatron announced. "Soundwave, open the communications channels to the moon base. We must be prepared to accept their surrender."

"What next, mighty Megatron?" Shockwave inquired.

"Now we begin trials for a new Air Commander," Megatron grinned.

"And what about Old Stealthy?" Skywarp asked.

Turning to the dark jet, Megatron replied, "We shall give Ritter our pledge of..."

And then the Decepticon leader's voice cut off.

Ritter was gone, as if he'd never been.

***

EPILOGUE--EIGHT CYBERTRONIAN SOLAR CYCLES LATER

Megatron cast an optic over the assembled Decepticon flyers. His gaze settled on the red and white Seeker in the front row. "Starscream, congratulations. You are my new Air Commander."

"M...me?" Starscream repeated, incredulous, and then a satisfied smile split his face.

"Hey, wait a minute, you're making that little punk Air Commander?" Ramjet growled.

"He has the speed. He has the skill. He may not have the experience yet, but he has an intelligent mind and was top of his class at the War Academy. Not to mention that he beat out all of you in the trials."

Starscream basked in the attention. Air Commander, at a relatively young age...who knows what he could achieve in time?

Stealth and speed. Those were the keys.

He'd learned something already.

***

Far across the galaxy, on the outer verges of Cybertronian charted space, Devcon looked with satisfaction upon the ruins of the desolate Decepticon outpost. He'd never imagined that Decepticons had spread this far away from Cybertron, past the known parameters of the galaxy to the outlands beyond. Devcon himself would never have come here were it not for the tip he'd received from an angry Sirian space pirate. The Decepticons here had insulted the Sirian's pride, and now they had paid for it with their lives. Devcon did not hold the pirate in high esteem--the Sirian was obviously a petty criminal who'd been looking for someone to take the revenge upon these Decepticons that he dared not take himself--but such unpleasantries meant little to Devcon. Devcon's targets were the Decepticons, not the Sirians, and the infamous Autobot bounty hunter looked upon the smoking debris with a feeling of satisfaction.

There was a shifting in the debris. Devcon turned his head, ready with his helmet-mounted weapon. An older-model Decepticon staggered out of the wreckage, leaking badly from a hole in his chest, clutching a handful of severed wires in a futile attempt to stuff them back where they belonged. The Decepticon was unarmed and dying. Devcon held his fire.

"You will rue this day," the Decepticon snarled, stumbling to his knees. "We did not threaten your kind. My people have lived in this sector since the end of the Quintesson War. Why have you taken it upon yourself to destroy us?"

"You're Decepticons," Devcon retorted coolly. "That's all I need to know."

"Then if you pit yourself against all Decepticons without cause, you shall meet your end at the hands of he who holds our Matrix of Power."

"Optimus Prime holds the Autobot Matrix of Leadership," the blue bounty hunter replied, somewhat confused.

"Not your Matrix. Ours. The Decepticon Matrix of Power."

"Decepticon Matrix?" Devcon's optics narrowed. "There's no such thing."

"Our legends say there is. That it rests in the hands of a night-dark hunter. He is the Mighty Death...Continue on this path and you will surely die by his hands."

"Superstitious nonsense," Devcon muttered, hammering his victim with a laser blast and watching as the old Decepticon died. Stealth hunter. Decepticon Matrix. It was a myth. It had to be. It could be nothing more than the wishful dream of a doomed robot who, unable to fight, had invented a defender to take his revenge for him. Devcon decided to deny the story its intended power by blatantly refusing to believe it.

The bounty hunter made his way across the ruined outpost to the fuel dumps on the outskirts. There was a substantial reserve of energon that had not been destroyed in the fighting. These Decepticons evidently hadn't done much in the way of warfare since their ancestors had fled Cybertron at the end of the First Great War, conquered and colonized this planet. It had been easy enough for Devcon to take down their small outpost single-handedly. Devcon drank deeply of

the stolen fuel, re-energizing himself for the long flight back to the more familiar reaches of space.

On a hill not far from the ruined city, a dark figure stood cloaked on the summit and observed the Autobot below. Lavender optics watched Devcon walk back outside, where he transformed into his spaceship mode. The blue ship went streaking into the darkening sky, an angel of destruction re-ascending to the heavens from whence he came.

The Autobot bounty hunter would be an easy target and...

...Infighting. Not his style.

Ritter observed the ruined city. This was the result of civil war. A waste of time, while the Quintessons still lived.

Silently, he stalked into the fallen outpost. Tonight would be the last opportunity for him to take more ammunition from its warehouses. He would have to find a new source of supplies in this sector.

He stepped, impassively, over the body of the dead storyteller and remembered the legends told about him in this place. Mostly myth, they had contained some fragments of truth. This outpost had been founded by those who, like him, had been built during the First Great War. They had passed their history to their descendants. Ritter had survived by other means...

...having been through many bodies in the ages since the First Great War, he wondered if any of those who had lived in this city would have been able to recognize him from the descriptions in the legends.

Idle question. Ritter rarely decloaked long enough to afford anyone the opportunity. He was not the defender they'd believed him to be, at least to those of the outpost who'd believed in him at all. There had been fewer and fewer of them every solar cycle—and now, there were none at all.

Let time take his memory. Let the eons claim his legend. His work was out in the darkness of space, wherever the Quintessons may be. Let his story be forgotten by the descendants of his fellow Cybertronians, who would only embroil him in their foolish wars...

He frowned, remembering his treaty with Megatron, and hoped deeply that he had not made a mistake. Ritter examined the new rocket launcher on his right arm, wondering if the weapon was worth the price he'd paid...the confirmation of his existence to a new generation as intent on warring amongst themselves as the generations previous. And with no aid against his ancient enemies to show for his efforts.

The damage was done now. So be it.

Ritter opened his chest panels to store some extra photon charges, and had anything living been left in the ruins, it might have caught the fragmented red glow from a round object in a strangely-shaped hexagonal holder that was mounted in the cavity within. The stealth fighter called it his power cell; it was what gave him the ability to phase-shift across the dimensions without decimating his fuel reserves. Like his weapon, and his shifters, it had been given to him by

the Quintessons, and he himself did not know what it was or how it worked. Regardless, he'd considered it unwise to inform Megatron of its existence. It was obviously an artefact of great power and alliances only went so far.

Perhaps Megatron would have recognized it...

...no.

There was no such thing as a Decepticon Matrix.

His weapons stores refreshed, Ritter transformed into his sleek stealth-fighter mode and set a course for the Van Whitbourne quadrant. Word around the space bars suggested a possible Quintesson presence in the area...

...though not for long, if the rumours proved correct.

Fuel. Weaponry. Target. It was all he really needed, and, looking back at the ruins, he felt somewhat resentful of this world's attempts to involve him in its petty politics. This dimension was proving a little too real, a little too intrusive.

"Phase shift. Activate primary programming. Operation: Search and Destroy."

There was a brief triangular silhouette on the crumbled walls of the outpost, and then, nothing. Nothing but an almost undetectable wedge of tachyon particles to mark the fact that the Mighty Death was hunting here.


End file.
